The New and Weird Professors
by LobsterSalad
Summary: It's the fourth year in Hogwarts, and two professors arrive, bringing drama and action. Nah. They're really passive and boring they don't bring too much drama. But they do like the way it unfolds in Hogwarts.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So, just to say this. I'm not even halfway done cleaning up the cluster**** that was in the fic, but I thought you guys would be tired of waiting so I'm just reuploading chapter one earlier than planned. And because I received an anonymous review that I'm not sure to feel complimented or just weird about...? Meh, dunt matter. **

**Still, thanks to all those who liked Professors the first time around! I'm not really too efficient on replying to reviews last time, but I do read every one of them and I greatly appreciated them. Anyhoo, read! **

* * *

There was an owl in front of him with a letter tied to its feet. The question of the century arose unbidden in front of the mysterious character's mind: To open or not to open?

The days were hectic, the nights blissfully warm inside his own cozy bed, alone because he was a strong independent nation and he don't need any man, and he had just moved all the important china down to the basement because America's visiting later. Magic was fun and real, but England wasn't sure if he wanted it part of his to-do list.

The owl cocked an eye at him. Oh, who was he kidding? England couldn't resist a magical creature if it came in the form of a zombie.

He tugged the letter off, carefully trying not to hurt the owl, and broke open the seal. It was from an old friend. Someone that he owed a debt to.

_Dear Mr. Arthur Kirkland,_

_It has been a long time since we have met, the last time I fondly remember, and I suppose you would less than fondly recall, being when I helped you out of a particularly tight spot. I am not usually one for trade backs of favours- oh, let us not dance around each other. Of course I am. This is a chance for you to be out of my debt. It is a rather huge one, and one in which I am sure you will excel at. _

_I am pleased to invite you to the faculty of Hogwarts, the school of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the position of the professor of A History of Magic. Professor Binns has been convinced to take this year off, although I am sure that you would like to stay more than one year (which I will happily oblige). _

_Looking forward to your reply,_

_Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts_

_P.S: I have already arranged your living arrangements. _

That's just great. On top of the numerous paperwork his boss sent him, now he had to be a professor in a magical school.

OH DEAR LORD IS THIS A DREAM COME TRUE?

He had to get packing. He had to arrange for magical accommodations so that his government papers could be transported to him. He had to arrange for some sucker to come with him to Scotland and another sucker from his family to take his place in meetings.

Well, it was ridiculous of course, but since Dumbledore seems to be begging England supposed he should do the poor old man a favour and JUST GO TO A MAGIC SCHOOL MAGIC MAGIC MAGIC MAGIC!

England knew that he was important, deep down inside his heart. He just felt that no one else thought that.

The phone rang.

Did he want to pick it up? Yes, yes he did. He wanted to gloat to the world and shove the letter into their faces. Show them who's magical. Show them who's boss.

The receiver was now in his hands, he grunted a terse, "Who is this?"

"England aru!" It was China. "I've called to-"

England slammed the phone back down.

He strode back to his desk, fingering the letter in excitement. Obviously he couldn't teach two classes, this was some sort of secret indicator from Dumbledore. A sort of _I might need your help, bring someone along_.

The magical world's affairs did not usually give England too much of a headache. They were, after all, an underground society albeit one that is so entrenched in its own history it might even have had its own personality had _that_ incident not have happened all those years ago. As it were, it became part of a nation's self. England always felt that his magical side was his pancreas and liver. He was pretty sure that Spain's was the tonsils, remembering the time when the idiot tried to have it burned out. Hah.

It never really mattered how bad things were on the magical side, as stated, they were only an underground society that slipped nearly every nations' mind.

Now then. Who to come with him?

The first person that popped up in England's head was the Frog. They weren't friends, they weren't enemies, but the Frog had always been a constant in his life. It was safe to say that they hated each other, in the same way two overcompetitive next door neighbours hated each other, but multiplied by ten and added by hundreds of years of blood. Unfortunately, the Frog was also the person closest to him, both on a physical level and a personal level. England groaned. This was why he's so pathetic.

No. Not the Frog. Not that slimy cretin who made his life so miserable.

The second person was America. His life was so horrible, England thought, that the first two people he could think about, ever, were among the two that annoyed him the most. They were like a trio, he set his eyes on a relatively new photograph of the three of them taken in Berlin after a stunning victory. Where France and Britain went, America followed. Where America and Britain went, France followed. Where America and France went, well, there's only so much derp and stupidity he could handle. It wasn't even on a conscious level. They were just so used to being the center of power…until one of them completely outstripped the other two. Even then, well, even now if England had to talk about friends, or the lack thereof, their faces would come floating into his treacherous mind.

Damn.

But no, not America. Poor child doesn't even have the magical sense of an ant. And that would be insulting the ant.

He needed someone he had something on. Not Norway nor Romania, no. They wouldn't accept it, not when they were fully aware of their own magical situations. Someone he wasn't really close to, but who he could cope with without pulling out half his hair. He glanced at the mail neatly sorted on his desk, and his eyes landed on an outlandish invitation decorated by way too many sparkles.

_England, get your ass to the awesome UN SECURITY COUNCIL party! VIP members only! _-United States of America aka Awesomeness

The UN Security Council. He mulled it over. Yes. He supposed that person would do. Then England banged his head on his desk and reached for his phone.

Ringalingling...

"Hello, China? I'm prepared to let you meet and interact with Hong Kong before the official date. But on one condition..."

Later that evening, Dumbledore received a letter.

_Dear Headmaster,_

_I am happy to accept your invitation for the position of History of Magic and Muggle History teaching posts. But I have my conditions, two. One, that there be a new course for the Muggle Histories, and two, that my dear friend Yao Want teaches this. I back his credentials as an expert well versed in the histories of the world. _

_You do understand that I have a job outside of this, so a year off is all I can take. My day job is for life and my life, literal as that may sound. _

_Signed,_

_Arthur Kirkland_


	2. Chapter 2

Hogwarts was once again in a festive mood since the Sorting. The first years didn't know better, but the rest pointed and gawked at the empty seat of the Defense of Dark Arts and at the two new professors.

The two new particularly good looking professors. They both sat upright and comfortable in their new positions as teachers in Hogwarts. The shorter, long haired one had deep dark eyes and a wide cunning smile. He conversed freely with his colleagues, as if he'd known them his whole life. The other one had humongous eyebrows, a head of golden hair framing his face and a posture that screamed elegance and propriety. Occasionally the two would exchange a glance, but otherwise no words passed between them.

Then the CRACK came and the doors flung open.

Moody shuffled into the Great Hall, his wooden leg clanking on the floor. He looked at the table and saw two unfamiliar faces occupying the seats of A History of Magic and Muggle Studies. Dumbledore had not told him anything about this.

As silence descended upon everyone, China picked and prodded at the suspicious food, surprise evident on his face. The food had just appeared out of mid-air, what is this place, made out of magic? England rolled his eyes at his colleague as if to say, No Duh This is Made Out of Magic.

England (Arthur Kirkland, Professor of A History of Magic), jerked out of his conversation with Minerva McGonagall as the third and final new professor stalked down the hall.

He seemed familiar…was it, he racked his brain for a memory of the distinctive face and looked over to China to see if the country that had been doing some extra reading would know the person. No such luck.

As Moody settled into his seat, the Great Hall was still silent as tension stretched taught over every mind. He shifted. It thickened.

"You're late," said the Asian professor suddenly, his voice punching a hole in the air."Very bad etiquette, being late."

Harry noted that his accent was one of an Chinese speaker who learned English the American way.

"Like you're the one to speak," his companion followed up. "You're the epitome of tardiness."

"That was years ago aru."

The other professor just harrumphed softly and let it be.

Dumbledore stood up and tapped his glass with a silver spoon. The Hall, which had already been silent first due to Moody's tension filled entrance and then to the tension filled dialogue between the two professors, shifted their attention towards him.

"First I'd like to introduce to our students three new professors who will be joining the staff and partaking in the wonders of learning in Hogwarts this year!" He chuckled, "It is always in my opinion that us professors learn as much from the students as you learn from us. But onwards towards out introduction. Professor Kirkland will be taking charge of a History of Magic since Professor Binns has just gone on vacation this year to seek out the meaning of death. I expect he will do wonderful."

"Thank you," said Kirkland.

"Professor Wang will be teaching a new Muggle History elective, open to all years from third and above. In our conversations I must say that the professor here does not teach a dry lesson."

Professor Wang nodded curtly to the students.

"Professor Moody will be handling the post of Defense of Dark Arts, I don't think that I need to introduce him more."

He nodded at Dumbledore.

"Now, let the feast...continue!"

Hermione glanced at the rest of the trio. It was certainly going to be an interesting year.

* * *

The next morning flocks of owls arrived as usual. This time, though, a more colorful bird was amongst them. It stood out with its oranges and greens and blues, and especially with its long sweeping tail.

"An eastern phoenix," breathed Hermione as it soared across the ceiling and towards the staff table. "I thought they were extinct!"

China looked up in surprise. It was FengHuang. Huh. He thought that she was dead, what with being the mortal type of birds who only go through three hundred cycles before dying. She carried an envelope and was flying directly at him.

He narrowed his eyes.

So it has come to this.

This so called vacation will be disrupted so it seems. China glanced at England, no doubt in his mind that it was the opium bastard who had disclosed his location.

As the letter was dropped into his hands, he sighed with relief when the envelope was plain and white with none of the embellishments to show that it was a Howler.

The contents were what he'd feared.

China abruptly stood up and started to walk out, pausing at England's side to lean down and whisper in to his ear,

"You've compromised me, Brit."

The other had the decency to look ashamed, but China was already out of the Hallway, rushing towards his classroom where he can install defensive spells and draw pentagrams of protection. Deep in his heart he knew that it was too late. That they were going to come and get him.

Honestly, he was a family man. His provinces were like his disciples and disciples were akin to children, or little siblings in this sense. His fellow countries, though. They were also like siblings, almost more so because while he could still attempt to baby his provinces (not that he did anymore) he couldn't baby Taiwan, or South Korea (not that he wanted to), or even Japan anymore. He knew that he was disliked, that in Asia probably the only country that others hated more than him was Japan. He loved them and they grudgingly respected him back and once upon a time, for a short period they were a very happy family.

That was a long time ago.

But just this year. Just this year China wanted to get away from it all for a while. He didn't want to be the useless old man, the old hardheaded father or big brother. And for some reason his country siblings were still attached to him although they showed it in the most inane ways, he doesn't want to let them do that this time.

This time was alone time (with England who doesn't count because no one counts England).

He settled into his chair, wincing at the morning chill that pervaded the room and resolved to have a fireplace installed here as soon as possible.

And waits.

He had new children to teach.


End file.
